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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277037">When Wake We Do</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506'>Project0506</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soft Wars [113]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Gen, Some Humor, WAFF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:21:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cody, Obi-Wan, and one reasonably unremarkable morning out of many.</p><p>(For the Friendly Competition square of Good Things Happen Bingo)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Soft Wars [113]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When Wake We Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/gifts">SailorSol</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23644651">Long enough to see the sunrise</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506">Project0506</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you awake?”</p><p> </p><p>His husband meanders, a studied, practiced casual. Cody watches the idle wandering through one slitted eye and tries desperately not to grin. Decades, and he’s gotten no better at faking innocent.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what I am?” The last remnants of sleep curls stubborn through Cody’s voice.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan smiles. There’s sunrise caught in the curve of that smile, scattered in the silver of his beard. Obi-Wan likes sheer curtains in their bedroom to watch the sunrise. Cody bears them, to watch Obi-Wan. “What are you, my dear?”</p><p> </p><p>“Retired.”</p><p> </p><p>Cody’s husband huffs nearly a laugh, just nearly. Quiet and whispering but deep and heartfelt, and yet just balanced on that edge of deniability if Cody were to accuse it. Their game starts on waking and Obi-Wan is a master. Cody buries his head in the pillow and the tut he gets then is pure amused indulgence. “Cheating,” Obi-Wan accuses. The kiss under Cody’s ear that follows is sweet and warm, but neither the words nor the touch is nearly enough to distract him.</p><p> </p><p>This man. Cody is in love with an entirely ridiculous man. And this ridiculous man is up to something.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Cody mutters. “Just a retired man, fast asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Another near laugh, near enough that it really should count. Cody agrees that one of them might be cheating, and he’s sure it isn’t him.</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose I’ll leave you to it,” his husband murmurs and off he goes, trailing innocence and the woody scent of tea like the cloaks he scatters behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Cody tries not to groan. It isn’t any easier than the laugh. He’d made plans for today: sleeping in, an indulgent shower, leisurely breakfasting, all of which had been vastly increased in value by the additional presence of a very specific Jedi Grand Menace.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe if he’s lucky he can smother himself back into unconsciousness. There are enough pillows scattered around, he’s sure he could manage. Get a few more hours, maybe by the time he accepts being awake as a necessity Obi-Wan would have long done whatever idiotic thing he’s planning.</p><p> </p><p>He could do that. He<em> could</em>. It’s a possibility. It’s something Cody could most certainly let happen. Obi-Wan is as skilled at scrabbling his way out of messes as he is talking his way into them, Cody could just sleep in and let him handle it.</p><p> </p><p>Self-delusion is a young man’s game, he laments into the accusing pillow. He thinks the bedding agrees. He feels judged.</p><p> </p><p>Decades, and though Obi-Wan can handle himself, Cody still can’t quite handle not having his back.</p><p> </p><p>At least his Jedi had the decency to warn him, he mourns as he picks his way out from under a body-warm nest of blankets with faint reluctance. Such as the warning was. He snags at yesterday’s pants hanging off the back of a chair: sleeping in is fairly cleanly shot at this point, and that indulgent shower has reticles lining up on it.</p><p> </p><p>They’d managed less than a tenday of calm. Cody supposes he should be grateful to get that much, with their record. He shrugs into a shirt, his concession against the morning chill, and goes to see if there’s anything of the leisurely breakfast to salvage.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Both of the his-and-his matching teacups sit in apologetic shards in the dining room recycler. There’s a tranq dart the size of his thumb, deformed and half-buried in the wood tabletop.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan is extremely competent. He has gotten no less formidable with age. Cody reminds himself. Twice. He forces himself to stop, turns his feet away from his rifle rack he’d taken two unconscious steps towards.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan is extremely competent. If he was worried, he would have said something. He has whatever this is under control.</p><p> </p><p>Reassurance, agreement both curl in the back of his mind. Obi-Wan is dealing with things. Cody is free to enjoy his breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>Cody marches into the kitchen to make the sludgiest cup of caff he can.</p><p> </p><p>There are a few things his husband could be doing right now. A couple of those things are even sensible. But there’s no distinct hum of Dawn Guard speeders in the air, no backup request chiming through Ghost chats. No, the thing he’s doing is the sort of thing only an empty-bucketed Jedi would consider reasonable.</p><p> </p><p>Competent, Cody reminds himself. He still wants to smack him.</p><p> </p><p>He sips his caff in restless silence, refills the cup. Tries to make the second last a little longer to spite the bitter layer that coats his tongue and nose. It’s a terrible plan: at some point, for some reason, he’s lost his taste for the cheap stuff. Yet another entry in the ‘getting old’ column, to keep the rest company. He makes a note to send one of the Skywalker brood out for a replacement tea set and better caff. He checks, sighs. And a replacement for the window too.</p><p> </p><p>The dart is still just north of too hot to touch.</p><p> </p><p>It’s easier to focus on details instead of (pointless, he knows logically,) worry.</p><p> </p><p>Calm creeps up from the base of his spine, and quiet confidence spreads across his shoulders. Obi-Wan is fine, and his presence buzzes comforting and familiar deep in Cody’s mind. Cody breathes, releases the anxiousness they way they’ve practiced. Obi-Wan’s approval chases away even the hint of cold threatening the air.</p><p> </p><p>Cody is, as always, an opportunist. Without a second’s hesitation he reaches back a reminder of just how impressed Obi-Wan should be. The Force shudders gaily, and it’s first point Cody! If he can prove it.</p><p> </p><p><em>Sounded like</em><em> a laugh, mesh’la</em> he prods. The impression that spirals back sings <em>Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Darling.</em></p><p> </p><p>That cheat.</p><p> </p><p>Cody grins, and Obi-Wan’s focus retreats.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a hot tranq dart sticking out of the table, nib buried deep, and Cody adds another note to his rapidly ballooning to-do list to dig it out and sand down the top. He adds a third: have whichever Skywalker kid also get stain. He’ll have to strip the whole top probably; a patch would likely be obvious, ruin the whole karking thing. He can either sand it down or add a few more spots, hang the thing up and call it Art. Make Ponds twitch whenever he drops by.</p><p> </p><p>Somehow at some point he’s gotten old, he thinks and splashes milk and sugar liberally in his drink. For his troubles, he steals himself a spoon of secret, hidden chocolate that Obi-Wan keeps <em>only for visitors Cody!</em></p><p> </p><p>The caff’s chemical tang burns right through the dark sweet of chocolate and Cody, officially, surrenders. He slams the whole sorry mess and rinses his mug.</p><p> </p><p>Once upon a time the dart would have alarmed him, angered him, had him armored up and charging out to rip his fool of a husband out of whatever plot he’s brewing and solving the issue firmly and decisively and with ringing finality. These days?</p><p> </p><p>Cody grabs a slice of thick, crusty bread from the bread bin and reaches for his hidden stash of jam. His hand closes empty.</p><p> </p><p>This. <em>Man.</em></p><p> </p><p>There’s a jar of sugar-free preserves huddling coyly just to the left of where proper jam should be, already unsealed and with a spoon sticking pointedly out of it. He slathers on twice the usual amount with the resigned aggravation of knowing how smug a face Obi-Wan must have been wearing when he made the switch. He wants to laugh, a little. He almost does. Kark that cheat. Another item on the to-do list: replace all tea in the house with something cloyingly herbal and caffeine-free. Spite will have recommendations. Bore will probably have stock.</p><p> </p><p>Once, the dart would have alarmed and angered him. These days, so long as he gives himself a full second to trust, the most it stirs up is annoyance. He’s more bothered that it interrupted his routine. Old, he thinks, and huffs.</p><p> </p><p>The bread is entirely wasted under the artificial gloop, he won’t reward it with the trappings of a proper meal: he skips a plate and eats his breakfast over the sink. Sleeping in is gone, there’s no possible way he’d enjoy a shower and breakfast is a wash. Seems he’s all out of plans for today.</p><p> </p><p>How convenient then, that his husband has plans he could go ahead and interrupt. Cody’s given him what, fifteen minutes? Plenty of time to do what he needs to. Obi-Wan is canny and competent; he has things under control. But Cody’s all out of plans and suddenly lacking jam. Can’t fault him for taking a simple look around.</p><p> </p><p>Cody eyes the angle the dart hit the table. The back yard then.</p><p> </p><p>He shoulders his rifle.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“She really is quite a sweetheart,” he hears almost before he makes it to the garden. “That veractyls are deliberately malicious is actually poacher-spread propaganda. In fact-”</p><p> </p><p>“She glides up to a hundred meters, spits acid up to two hundred,” Cody lies with all the shame of Wolffe at his finest. “She’s twelve feet at the shoulder, her jaws can’t actually be pried open by any known organics once she’s clamped down, and she’s generally unhappy with sudden changes to her environment.” He levels a glare at the figure huddled up on one of Obi-Wan’s carefully cultivated climbing ivy arches. “I am very familiar with the feeling.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very little of that is true.” They fall in like they always do: Cody presses forward and Obi-Wan smoothly adjusts his plan for a two-pronged approach. Cody leans their shoulders together, lets Obi-Wan be the monkly pacifist and affects his Marshall Commander Murderface.</p><p> </p><p>The Skywalker brood come up with his favorite nicknames. Really.</p><p> </p><p>“The Trandoshan Incident,” he grunts and Obi-Wan pretends to remember any such thing, pauses for exaggerated effect.</p><p> </p><p>“Extenuating circumstances,” he finally proclaims. “She’s usually quite docile.” The truth sounds amazingly like the worst sort of fabrication; Cody can feel their intruder’s skepticism right through their bucket. Boga screams and pants, open mouthed.</p><p> </p><p>She’s only demanding a morning treat, Cody and Obi-Wan both know. She wants a treat and she’s protesting the delay of her belly rubs. She sounds like a battle cry. The figure up on the arch visibly gulps. They’d shuffle another inch back, if there was another inch left to shuffle. Cody smirks, and scratches her crest. “Good girl Boga. You’re promoted to favorite,” he croons. She screams with delight. The figure twitches.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s quite tame,” Obi-Wan shouts over her bellows. Her sharp teeth glisten. It’s not hard to see their intruder comparing the toughness of their own skin to the depths of them. “Really,” the Jedi smiles disarmingly.</p><p> </p><p>“I. I’m okay up here. Sirs.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>The voice is higher than Cody expected. Young then, very young despite the build of them in that armor. And shiny enough that they’d dropped their tranq rifle in their dash to shimmy up the columns away from Boga’s attempt to make friends with the stranger in her garden.</p><p> </p><p>Cody holds his stern face through force of will.</p><p> </p><p>The hunter guild standards are slipping, aren’t they? Sending kids out. Cody does not glance at his husband. He knows the look he’ll see if he does. He’s probably wearing one similar.</p><p> </p><p>“Which of us is your puck for my dear?” Cody’s Jedi calls. The kid shifts. They scrabble to clutch a handhold when shifting proves not to be the best of ideas. The crushed vines pour a nearly-vanilla scent into the air.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure I’m supposed to tell you that? There are rules about these kinds of things.”</p><p> </p><p>“They shot at <em>you</em>,” Cody feigns an undertone.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but one old man looks much the same as another, from distance,” Obi-Wan answers with weaponized cheer. “And besides, they could have been after us both. They strike me as the ambitious sort.”</p><p> </p><p>“The word you’re looking for,” Cody shoots back, just loud enough to be overheard, “is idiotic.”</p><p> </p><p>The kid takes visible offense. Obi-Wan affects unconcern. Cody almost has him, almost.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh don’t start dear,” Obi-Wan tuts. “They took a puck for the former Vod’alor on Concord Dawn. Clearly they’re desperate. We should help.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>We</em> should get pests <em>off the lawn</em>.” Ah so close. He’d almost caught Obi-Wan in a giggle at that one. “And you just said you didn’t know who they were after.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s clearly you, I’m just your devilishly attractive househusband,” retorts the Negotiator, Hero of the Sith Wars, Grand Master of the Mandalore System Jedi Temple.</p><p> </p><p>Obi-Wan’s returned attack strikes true. Cody’s demeanor slips, he feels the snicker slither free and his ridiculous Jedi serenely preens at the point scored. <em>Kark</em> that cheat.</p><p> </p><p>First laugh of the day, point to Obi-Wan. Just for that, Cody’s tattling to the brood.</p><p> </p><p>The former Vod’alor is retired. Off to live with his wondrously aggravating husband surrounded by green and growing things and with the betting flying fast and furious over when he’ll get bored and show back up at the Capitol and try to reclaim that office couch.</p><p> </p><p>Not today, he thinks and wonders who had bet on ‘won’t last a tenday’.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t have his comm on him (<em>old</em> he grumbles) but Obi-Wan’s is pinned to his cloak and easy enough to snag, despite the harrumph. It hums to life and the most recent address connects through to his former office. Hits the admin's commswitch, idles there a moment while the comm address is recognized, and is rerouted directly to Dawn Guard Command. He isn’t kept waiting.</p><p> </p><p>“You couldn’t hold out for a month old man? You know how much I just lost?”</p><p> </p><p>Cody smiles. It’s part Obi-Wan’s ‘completely harmless, honestly’, part Rex’s ‘I’m a dotty old man, pay me no mind’. Leia blanches. “Why if it isn’t my current favorite Commander,” Cody croons just the way he does to Boga. “And currently the person in charge of fixing all things security, isn’t that right?”</p><p> </p><p>If she’d had an ounce less restraint, Leia would drop her head to the desk. Obi-Wan and Cody may have a friendly competition to see who can cause that first. “No,” she groans. “<em>No</em>. You’re <em>retired</em> Ba’vodu what could you have <em>possibly</em> instigated in the last nine days?!”</p><p> </p><p>Cody hums. “It seems like someone is trying to kidnap my husband,” he muses, “and I know he’s not much to speak of but I’m fond of him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly Cody.” Obi-Wan has gotten older but his raised eyebrow hasn’t gotten any less sardonic, or attractive. Cody adds that thought to the to do list, for when there isn’t a grown-up Little on the comm and an unknown in the garden.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m telling Ohnaka,” Leia threatens, because she knows <em>just</em> where to strike. That is just what Cody’s morning had been missing: that nuisance showing up to defend his monopoly on Kenobi abduction. He thinks he might actually shoot him this time, somewhere as annoying as he is. A butt cheek, maybe.</p><p> </p><p>“You won’t,” Obi-Wan mutters.</p><p> </p><p>Cody delivers him a blistering side-eye. “I might.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop mind flirting in front of the criminal,” Leia snaps. “Keep them in your sights, keep your karking weapon up. And do not do <em>anything else</em> until I get there.” She slams the link closed, already pulling on armor as she does. Cody wonders how long it will take her to realize neither of them ever actually agreed.</p><p> </p><p>Kids these days. Always in a rush.</p><p> </p><p>The husbands trade grins. She’ll learn.</p><p> </p><p>Cody had stepped out of his house not knowing what the fight was, but knowing he would be at Obi-Wan’s shoulder regardless. Even if the fight is slightly less blasters at dawn and slightly more cajoling infiltrators down onto their porch, probably into their kitchen to be plied with Cody’s good bread and Obi-Wan’s terrible jam. Prodded about their family situation instead of reasonable things like how they got on-planet and who the kriff hired them.</p><p> </p><p>The last of the shadows scatter as the sun finally breaks the thick leaves bowing over their back yard. Cody scoops up the dart rifle and slings it cross his support side. He smiles, with the air of theater. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, as if he’s any better.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll be coming down from there,” he informs their uninvited guest. “You can either let him sweet talk you down or I can shoot through the trellis and that’ll just make me irritated.” He idly swings his rifle up to sit butt-in-the-shoulder-pocket, his cheek casually against the stock.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Force forbid you get <em>irritated</em>,” Obi-Wan mutters but which one of them got the kid down hm? Shaking in their karking boots but both said boots are on the ground and a far sight better than Obi-Wan’s house slippers.</p><p> </p><p>House slippers. Obi-Wan went out to meet a kidnapper in polycotton sleep pants and slippers, with his robe thrown over the top as if to make it all better. Cody sighs. He’s in love with a <em>fantastically</em> ridiculous man. Obi-Wan huffs, and it’s clearly a laugh. Point for Cody, thank you.</p><p> </p><p>He trudges after the pair of them, all the better to play security while Obi-Wan pesters out the kid’s whole life story over too much tea and not nearly enough of the nasty jam.</p><p> </p><p>Cody is only slightly fiendishly delighted that Obi-Wan is forced to serve tea in the caff mugs.</p>
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